


Cas Doesn't Always get Drunk, But When he Does...

by glowinggreeneyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Confessions, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Fuck Marry Kill, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, so many confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinggreeneyes/pseuds/glowinggreeneyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scene: Dean and Castiel, on Cas' bed, surrounded by empty beer bottles and a hell of a load of feelings and tension in the air between them.</p><p>Cas doesn't always get drunk, but when he does, it rarely works out in his favour. Except this once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cas Doesn't Always get Drunk, But When he Does...

“God, we’re loners…” Cas grumbled, looking at the assortment of empty beer cans around him and his best friend. “We should be captains of the anti-social club.”  
  
“I used to be so popular too,” came a muffled response.  
  
Dean had buried his head in Cas’ pillow (that Dean did certainly not want to spend every second nestled in due to the cinnamon and petrichor musk of Cas) amidst their conversation.  
  
“It’s all my fault. And now look at us.”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean groaned as he flipped over and sat up against the head of the king-size bed Cas had the luxury of having. No, more like stealing from his clutches when they first moved in, Cas being the bed-snatching ninja.  
  
Then he stopped and actually looked around at the ‘us’.  
  
The polaroids, the shared albums, even vinyls, the DVDs, the mixtapes for roadtrips together piled up on a shelf. Their keys, their spare keys, their _spare_ spare keys. Pictures they’d taken on trips they could never forget, sunsets that can’t ever be imagined, snow fall that can’t be recreated - special times they’d surrounded themselves in. Their home, although rented, was filled with their bond. Unique. Unbreakable.  
  
Then Dean’s gaze travelled to the mess of booze they’d drunk their way through. Instead of going out and celebrating New Year’s Eve, they sat indoors, saddened with dismal thoughts of another year passing, and consequently drunk the River Niles’ volume of alcohol.  
  
“I never understood why you threw your popularity away for me,” slurred Cas, crawling over to slump beside Dean.  
  
“Because you’re cool, and hot,” Dean snorted back. “And I never really fit in. But with you…yeah, I did fit."  
  
“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” Cas smirked, lolling his head to the side and locking eyes with Dean.  
  
“No one has ever said anything romantic to you because everyone thinks we’re dating.”  
  
“My point still stands.”  
  
They sat in silence for a few moments, legs brushing, hands twitching to touch, before Dean pushed those drunken thoughts aside. Because he never had them sober…ever. “I’m bored of being sad. Let’s play a game.”  
  
“Dean, we’re positively _drunk_ and I’m not risking another night in the cells.”  
  
“But you enjoyed it last time!” This got a sceptic glance from Cas. “Anyway, that’s not what I had in mind. Let’s play…fuck, marry, kill?”  
  
“Okay, I’m game.”  
  
“Well, you first,” Dean said, gesturing at Cas impatiently.  
  
“Uh…Chris Evans, Natalie Dormer or…Harry Shum Jr.?”  
  
“Why you gotta start off hard, Cas? Couldn’t it be Putin, the Queen and Morgan Freeman or something?”  
  
“Because I know your answers will be the same as mine so…answer!”  
  
“Fine, alright,” Dean rubbed his forehead, “uh…fuck Harry in shameless objectification of him, marry… I don’t know! They’re both cute! I mean…I’d probably kill Chris for the sake of trying, I mean that dude has serious muscles, so that leaves Natalie.”  
  
Cas nodded, pouting and contemplating. “Fair enough. Okay, your turn.”  
  
“Sam, Charlie or Jo?”  
  
“Dean, I’m gay!” he forcefully nudged Dean’s side.  
  
“Yeah, and?”  
  
Cas sighed heavily. “Fine…so I suppose I’ll have to decline this round.”  
  
Dean straightened his posture in protest. “But rules, Cas! Rules!”  
  
Glaring, Cas shook his head slowly, his voice low and slightly slurred still. “Dean, I do not wish to say the words ‘I would fuck your brother over Charlie and Jo’ but you leave me no choice.”  
  
“Ew! Dude!” Dean grinned, hitting Cas with the pillow the was previously leaning against.  
  
“You said you wanted the truth!”  
  
“I’m regretting that now! Okay, so who would you marry and kill?"  
  
“Marry Charlie because she can cook and likes the same music as I do. So…sorry Jo.”

“Ugh, that was too easy. C’mon, give me something I’d have to think about.”  
  
“Okay…" Cas began, looking calculatingly at Dean, before coming to a conclusion. "Me, Benny, Balthazar.”  
  
“I’d kill Balthy, no offence to the guy. But between you and Ben…fuck, that’s weird to think about.”  
  
“I didn’t think you’d actually take this seriously.”  
  
“C'mon, it’s Cas, if I’m embarrassing myself I’m doing it professionally. Let’s think about this logically."  
  
“Well, logically,” Cas began, “as your best friend, there’s three options if we fucked: it would be either very awkward in the morning and we’d live in silence, or we could just forget it and live as we normally do, laughing it off, or (and this depends on your view of me) it would be the start of something…more.”  
  
“I’ve thought about it,” Dean softly said, staring forward at a blank wall with glazed eyes. He was meant to keep it in him mind but of course he blurted it out like it was an impulsive response. It wasn’t a lie. Neither was it the whole truth. ‘Thought about it’ was an understatement.  
  
Cas turned his head to him and grabbed back Dean’s attention.

“You have?” Dean nodded. “So have I. But you still haven’t answered my question.”  
  
“I’d marry you, Cas,” he murmured like it was shameful, but all he got from Cas was kind eyes and a small smirk. “I-It wouldn’t change much in our lives anyway, to be honest.”  
  
“We spend nearly every second together anyway.”

“True. And that time you had a crush on me in freshman.” _And what a fucking missed opportunity that was_ , Dean’s mind helpfully reminded him.  
  
Cas nudged Dean again, softer, making him chuckle. “Hey!”  
  
“And I was too scared to say I like you back.”  
  
Cas squinted at him. “Like? You mean liked?”

“Cas, I’m in love with you," Dean confessed, then shook his head with a lazy grin, "You idiot.”

“You are?” Somehow his adorable squint intensified. Dean suddenly found himself in a half hug, too lazy to be tight but close enough to share heat and have Cas’ chin rest on his shoulder.

“Yeah…” he breathed.

As Cas tilted his head up to face Dean completely, his nose brushed across Dean’s, lips pressed lightly against his, now questionably, friend. “I’m in love with you too, Dean.”

Quickly, the situation became too much for either of their hazy minds, and soft lips collided, a sharp inhale of breath enough to keep them sealed together.

Tongues tangled, swiped experimentally over plush lips, mouths widened with the increasing need swelling within both men’s hearts (and pants).

“God, your lips,” gasped Cas, one hand firmly on Dean’s thigh. “So good Dean.”

Dean had his free hand cupping Cas’ face to clumsily control the rather sloppy kiss. “I got you,” he replied, slipping his hand down Cas’ shoulder and into the front of Castiel’s jeans. “I got you.”

 

~~~~~

 

No pants. No shirt. _Not_ his bed. Dean was rather confused at his surroundings at first, his splitting headache really not helping.  
Oh, and of course his best friend would be huddled up next to him with that damn cute resting face. Scared shitless that he’d fucked up (ha) their entire friendship, he shook Cas’ arm until he saw his lids open. “Uh…Cas?”

“D-Dean?” Cas murmured, narrowing his eyes in the morning light and confusion. It took a moment to fully settle the whole situation but once it did, his eyes went comically wide. “Oh god…did we…did we-”

“No, we, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, memory serving him well enough to definitely say: ”we just got drunk and made out.”

“Is that all?”

“I seem to remember a lot of things coming out last night.” Now it was all coming back, his mind being helpful for once. Maybe it was the adrenaline boost.

“Most specifically?” Cas offered, concerned.

Dean sat up and turned away, rubbing his hands over his face. He heard the sheets shuffle behind him, then a dip in the bed and a warmth against his back.  
  
“Dean, if I embarrassed you in any way. I…I know I said I love you. I am sorry but I don’t hate my feelings I have for you. So what if I said anything, please, Dean, just can we move on from a few drunken mishaps?”

Dean looked back at Cas, sadness lacing his glazed eyes. Fuck, his chest ached, now the reality settled on him. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“It’s probably for the best,” Cas said as he ducked his head, cheeks flushed.

“No!” Dean protested a little loudly. He faced Cas again and reached up to his shoulders. “No…I mean you don’t remember the part where I said…” Breathe in, breathe out, Dean. “I said I love you. Before you said it back.”

A new hope was restored in Cas’ piercing blues, a smile wavering on his lips. “You did?”

“Yeah, Cas, I did. I fucking said it first.”

The anticipation was killing Dean, and all the worse when Cas’ face fell. “But you don’t mean it the way I do.”

Really? After everything? THAT is what Cas was worried about? Cas may be socially incompetent but he could at least pick up on the way Dean felt, Dean thought. 

Dean dramatically rolled his eyes before pressing his mouth on a stunned Cas’. Cas immediately responded in the kiss, melting into it and pulling Dean closer.  
  
After a moment, Dean briefly pulled away, making sure they were both on the same page.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah,” came the breathless reply before they were back to kissing feverishly once more.


End file.
